


Picking a Rose

by Khaelis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9619916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaelis/pseuds/Khaelis
Summary: Rose shouldn't have tried to pick a flower in his garden, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another AU story featuring John Smith!
> 
> I really should stop writing about these two, but they seem to be my main source of inspiration these days.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

 

Rose wiped her forehead with her wristband, earphones blaring rock music in her ears and ponytail swigging merrily at the back of her head. She was well into her first hour of running and her feet had taken her to a rather posh neighborhood. It was only when a lady in her forties dressed in a strict suit and high heels gave her a disapproving look that she realized maybe she should turn on her heels and head back home.

With her cheap tank top and shorts, her dirty, worn-out trainers and bright pink wristband, she sure stood out in this high-class territory. Not that she minded much, but it was about time she went home anyway. Just as she was about to cross the road, her eyes caught a beautiful sight. She stopped running and strolled lazily to a white-picket fence, tightening the straps of her tiny backpack.

The house that stood in front of her looked pretty much like all the others on the street. Its front garden, however, was quite different. Instead of neatly trimmed bushes, close-cut green grass and cute multi-colored flowers, there were just enormous white and red rose trees. Hundreds of giant flowers dotted the trove of leaves and thorns, and Rose was firmly convinced that should they get any bigger, they’d probably fall off and wither.

She took a quick look around her and when she was sure there was no one to watch her, she pushed the picket-gate open and took a few steps into the eerie garden. Whoever lived here wouldn’t hold her accountable for ruining their garden if she picked one of them, would they? Just one, a gift for her mum and that was it.

She reached for a particularly big white rose, careful not to prick her fingers with the equally large thorns protecting their treasure. She didn’t even realize she had started singing to the loud music still playing in her ears, too focused on the task at hand and oblivious to everything that surrounded her. That was why she shrieked loudly and jumped backwards when she felt cold fingers land on her bare shoulder.

Rose was quick to take off her earphones and looked up at the man who probably was the owner of the house. And, consequently, of the flower she had been trying to pick. He mustn’t have been more than thirty but his dark eyes and his perfectly tailored suit made him look older – and rather intimidating, Rose thought. She suddenly felt uncomfortable in her budget garments and her shoes she should have thrown away far too long ago. Sweat was still sticking to her skin and wild strands of hair fell clumsily around her face, not to mention her mascara that must have melted in a horrible fashion. Shame. He was hot. She was too in that moment, but for quite different reasons.

 

“No flower picking,” he simply said, pointing an accusing finger at her.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she shrugged apologetically.

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that you happen to be trespassing and stealing my flowers by accident?”

“No, that’s not… I just wanted to pick one for my mum, I didn’t think…”

 

Rose tried as best as she could to pull herself out of the mud, but she knew he was right. She sighed deeply and apologized again, though he looked as impassive as his flowers.

 

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed out, nodding towards her dripping finger.

“Oh,” Rose could only say. “Must have been a thorn. Nothing serious. Look, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“Too late. I must call the police, now.”

 

Rose’s stomach tightened unpleasantly and she would have gladly run away while she still had the chance. He didn’t know her name, she had never been here before, surely there wouldn’t be much he could tell the police if he did call them. Right?

He suddenly broke into a smile and Rose scoffed at him when she realized he had been messing with her. He took her wrist and frowned to study the tiny wound from up close.

 

“Nothing serious, indeed,” came his verdict. “Still, it would be better to tend to it right away to avoid any infection. Would you care for some tea, miss…?”

“Rose,” she answered despite her desire to run back home and forget that any of this had happened.

“You don’t have to lie, you know,” he grinned as he released her hand. “Although I have to admit, that name would rather suit you. So, tea?”

 

Rose wanted to insist that it actually was her real name but he was already off to his front door, looking back expectantly at her. Her hesitation melted when he wiggled his eyebrows – and she honestly thought she had never seen anything cuter in her whole life. She guessed she owed him that, anyway.

Rose shrugged and joined him into an immense hall that must have been bigger than her whole flat. She was dazzled by all the plants and flowers on display, most of which she didn’t even recognize. From the floor to the ceiling, she had never seen so much vegetation in a single place.

 

“I’m a botanist,” he offered as an explanation, smiling at her astonishment. “Please, come this way.”

 

He gently took her by the elbow to lead her to a bathroom. While she sat on the edge of a tub – big enough for two, she noticed – he rummaged through cupboard to fetch a cotton pad and a bottle of a yellowish substance she didn’t quite trust.

 

“Gilead oil,” he told her as he poured some on the pad. “Hundred percent natural and much more efficient than all those sprays they sell nowadays. Miracle tree, the Gilead.”

She agreed with a nod, although she had no idea what a Gilead tree could look like or could do apart from disinfecting wounds caused by thorns. He made a quick job of cleaning the shallow cut on her finger and handed her the bottle of oil.

 

“You can keep this one, I’ve got loads of them,” he smiled when Rose opened her mouth to protest.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked with a hint of suspiciousness.

“Why not?” he chuckled as she stood up. “My job is to look after flowers, dear Rose, isn’t it? Should we get that tea?”

“As long as you’re not trying to feed me venomous plants…”

“Not venomous, poisonous. Spiders and snakes are venomous, for example. Their venom is released in your blood when they bite you. Poisonous, however, means you can only get affected if you touch or eat something toxic. I’ve never seen or heard of a plant that could actually bite and cause death. Except maybe in Jumanji, but as of today there are no proof that such a plant exists. But poisonous plants, plenty of them, everywhere. Did you know the _Nicotinia tabacum_ is the deadliest plant of all? Millions of death every year.”

“The… What?” Rose asked, following him into a large living room.

“Tobacco, Rose,” he laughed, pulling a chair so she could sit. “High toxicity levels and a rather potent addictive chemical. But I also have green tea, perfectly safe, I promise.”

“Yes, green tea’s nice,” she nodded with a small smile as he disappeared from view.

 

Rose took around her and was fascinated to discover more plants, some with large green leaves, others with tiny pink flowers, either planted in large ceramic pots or hanging lazily from buckets suspended on hooks. From what she could make out, all the books neatly displayed on a bookshelf were about botany. She had never cared much about plants, but she was so amazed by all this that she was seriously reconsidering her opinion.

He came back minutes later holding a tray with two cups of steaming tea and a box of biscuits.

 

“ _Camellia sinensis_ , now that’s a good tea,” he smiled, placing a cup in front of her. "Nothing poisonous about it."

“You sure know your stuff, Mister Botanist,” she grinned cheekily.

“Doctor John Smith, at your service,” he bowed before her with exaggerated courtesy. “And to whom I owe the pleasure?”

“Already told you, Dr. Smith. I’m Rose. Rose Tyler.”

“So you weren’t lying. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Yes, quite,” she agreed with a grin as she took a sip of her tea.

“The _Rosa centifolia_ is my favorite rose,” he told her as he went to pick up a book on the shelf.

 

He opened the book in front of her and pointed at a photograph of a bright pink flower.

 

“Doesn’t look much different from what people usually think a rose ought to look like,” he went on, turning the pages to show her more pictures and drawings. “But its smell is exquisite. It’s one of the few species that is solely cultivated for the fragrance it diffuses. Both strong and sweet, with just a hint of honey. A single drop of its oil is enough to perfume an entire room. Hard to believe such fragile petals can transform into the most delicious of fragrances, isn’t it?”

 

Rose could only nod. She would have been glad to share his obvious passion, but his closeness made it hard to focus on anything else but his own scent and the heat emanating from his lean body. No flower could ever smell as good as he did, she thought as she bit her cheek. She swallowed hard when he placed a pair of specs on his nose and God, was it normal that a man could look so much sexier with bloody glasses?

She lost the little interest for the book she had managed to keep when he started to rant about other species, other families, other orders – which honestly didn’t make much sense to her neophyte’s ears. Studying his face with side way glances proved to be a much more interesting activity. His enthusiasm lit up his eyes with a sparkle of excitement each time he tapped his fingers on the photograph of a flower. His lips stirring into a smile each time he conjured up whatever little story he remembered. The sexy freckles, the sexy sideburns, and the sexy hair. She would have sold her mother to run her fingers through the brown spikes sticking up in every direction.

 

“Rose, are you even interested in what I’m saying?” he asked when he noticed she wasn’t looking at the book anymore.

“Oh yes, very interested,” she said softly, staring at his pouty lower lip.

“Rose?”

 

Rose blinked back to the real world when he cleared his throat rather loudly and her cheeks quickly turned redder than any of the flowers in the book. Horrified, she jumped to her feet and quickly headed for the front door.

 

“I’m sorry John, Dr. Smith,” she stuttered, nervously tugging on her ponytail. “I must go. Thanks for the tea, great tea indeed. Well, have fun with your flowers and plants and whatever green things you study. G’bye!”

“Rose, you forgot your…”

 

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence that she was already gone.

 

“Bag,” he eventually whispered to himself, holding the little backpack up.

 

*****

 

John knocked softly on the door to what he supposed would be her flat. He swung on his feet, rather impatient to see her. He knew she might not be pleased to see him again within such a short time, but he still had to give her back her backpack.

 

“Hello again,” he smiled uneasily when the door opened on the now familiar face.

 

She lowered her eyes and mumbled a short greeting before inviting him in. John couldn’t help but notice she had traded her sport outfit for a short black dress and that her hair had been masterfully tied into an elegant bun – that looked like the flower of an Asian plant, he noted with a grin.

 

“Are you making fun of me?” Rose asked with a raised eyebrow as she put on polished heels.

“Oh no, not at all,” he shook his head, wiping his grin off his face. “I just came by to give you back your bag. Found your address on your ID. But I suppose you already knew that.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for… You know, earlier. I don’t know what got to me.”

“What could you possibly be sorry for?” he chuckled, putting her backpack down.

“Like, almost hitting on a guy that’s way above my league.”

“I’m afraid I fail to understand your point.”

“Oh come one, you’re a bloody Doctor in botany, you live in a mansion in a neighborhood where I couldn’t even afford to rent a cupboard for my broom. I’m nothing, just a girl working in a shop, living in a miserable Estate with no hope of ever getting something better.”

“You don’t look like a girl to me,” he shrugged, closing the distance between them. “I see a woman. Passionate, fierce, strong, clever. Beautiful. A woman that definitely won’t work in a shop for the rest of her days, but will fight her way to the top. Just like a _Hemerocallis_. The daylily. Fragile-looking, beautiful, but the toughest flower you can get in your garden.”

 

He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb on her cheekbone, searching for her eyes.

 

“You’re worth so much more than that, Rose,” he whispered, and Rose nibbled her lip as she fought the tears that threatened to fall. “There’s something about you. You’re like an undiscovered, rare flower. A flower I’m dying to learn more about.”

“You don’t mean that,” she breathed with a shudder.

 

Rose held her breath when he leaned forward and kissed her gently, his hands finding their way on both sides of her waist. Against her will, she melted into his arms and her fingers fisted the lapels of his jacket. That handsome man, brilliant Doctor already had her head over heels and they had seen each other for less than an hour. This was madness.

John usually was shy and clumsy when it came to women. But now that his tongue met hers with a tenderness and a passion he had never experienced in his whole life, he couldn’t care less. She had him head over heels and if it didn’t turn out like he wished it would, the downfall would be cruel. He had given in too fast. This was madness.

When the kiss broke, they were panting heavily, forehead against forehead, fingers clutched between fingers.

 

“I brought you something,” he whispered as his nose nuzzled her cheek.

 

He reached inside his pocket and took out a red rose. Rose he had carefully picked in his own garden.

 

“This flower has no name yet,” he told her softly, placing the delicate flower in her hand. “It’s a hybrid I created. I was hoping to call it _Rosa lux nova_. A Rose to bring new light into my life.”

“It’s a rather beautiful name,” Rose smiled, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the flower.

“This is for you. Only for you.”

 

Rose drew him into a tight hug and buried her face in the crook if his neck, peppering his skin with tiny kisses.

 

“Weren’t going out when I came in?” John asked, trailing his fingers up her naked back.

“I was,” she nodded as she shivered under his touch. “But not anymore. Would you mind… Staying? I wish to know more about, hum… What was it?”

“The _Heliantus_?” he suggested with a grin, more than happy to find a lame reason to spend the night with her.

“Exactly.”

 

Rose giggled helplessly when they crushed on the couch, careful to put her flower away. She gathered her legs under her and cuddled on his side while he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

 

“So, the _Heliantus_ , otherwise known as the sunflower…” he started with a soft voice, running his fingers through blond locks that had escaped from her bun.

 

Rose closed her eyes and snuggled even closer to him, lulled by the depth of his voice and his heat. Maybe she used to think plants and flowers dull, but with him, they would certainly become the most interesting subject she had ever cared for.


End file.
